


To All The Boys I've Loved Before

by laurawritesthings



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ALL THE FIRSTS, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - To All the Boys I've Loved Before, Contracts, Deals, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Crush, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Humiliation, Inspired by book and movie, Misunderstandings, Multi Chapter, Pacts, Romantic Fluff, Sort Of, and i made dany gen, based on a book, based on a movie, it just worked the best that way, mix of both, obviously, wires crossed, yes i made gendry josh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 14:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15775899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurawritesthings/pseuds/laurawritesthings
Summary: Basically what it says on the tin. Jon is the Peter Kavinsky to Sansa's Lara Jean. And the letter's are out. Cue fluff.





	1. Up close, your face wasn’t so much handsome as beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> *Yep. Jumping on the bandwagon. This story was practically BEGGING for a Jonsa AU. And a lot of people here were talking about it and wondering who was gonna do it (including me) so instead of waiting I just…;)  
> ** As this is only a short mini-series, I’ll update it daily. Check back tomorrow for Part 2.  
> ***This fic will be a mix of book and movie inspired moments with a Jonsa twist.  
> ****Hope you like ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤  
> >>READ/REBLOG/LIKE ON TUMBLR: https://mediiciis.tumblr.com/post/177316090811/to-all-the-boys-ive-loved-before-jonsa-au

_Dear Jon S,_

__

_First of all I refuse to call you Snow. You think you’re so cool, going by your last name all of a sudden. Just so you know, Snow sounds like the name of an old man with a long white beard. ___  
_Did you know that when you kissed me, I would come to love you? Sometimes I think yes. Definitely yes. You know why? Because you think EVERYONE loves you, Jon. That’s what I hate about you. Because everyone does love you. Including me. I did. Not anymore._  
_Here are all your worst qualities: You burp and you don’t say excuse me. You just assume everyone else will find it charming. And if they don’t, who cares, right? Wrong! You do care. You care a lot about what people think of you. You always take the last piece of pizza. You never ask if anyone else wants it. That’s rude. You’re so good at everything. Too good. You could’ve given other guys a chance to be good, but you never did._  
_You kissed me for no reason. Even though I knew you liked Dany, and you knew you liked Dany, and Dany knew you liked Dany. But you still did it. Just because you could. I really want to know: Why would you do that to me? My first kiss was supposed to be something special. I’ve read about it, what it’s supposed to feel like—fireworks and lightning bolts and the sound of waves crashing in your ears. I didn’t have any of that. Thanks to you it was as unspecial as a kiss could be._  
_The worst part of it is, that stupid nothing kiss is what made me start liking you. I never did before. I never even thought about you before. Dany has always said that you are the best-looking boy in our grade, and I agreed, because sure, you are. But I still didn’t see the allure of you. Plenty of people are good-looking. That doesn’t make them interesting or intriguing or cool. Maybe that’s why you kissed me. To do mind control on me, to make me see you that way. It worked. Your little trick worked. From then on, I saw you. Up close, your face wasn’t so much handsome as beautiful. How many beautiful boys have you ever seen? For me it was just one. You. I think it’s a lot to do with your lashes. You have really long lashes. Unfairly long._  
_Even though you don’t deserve it, fine, I’ll go into all the things I like(d) about you: One time in science, nobody wanted to be partners with Samwell Tarly because he has BO, and you volunteered like it was no big deal. Suddenly everybody thought Sam wasn’t so bad. You’re still in chorus, even though all the other boys take band and orchestra now. You even sing solos. And you dance, and you’re not embarrassed. You were the last boy to get tall. And now you’re the tallest, but it’s like you earned it. Also, when you were short, no one even cared that you were short—the girls still liked you and the boys still picked you first for basketball in gym._  
_After you kissed me, I liked you for the rest of seventh grade and most of eighth. It hasn’t been easy, watching you with Dany, holding hands and making out at the bus loop. You probably make her feel very special. Because that’s your talent, right? You’re good at making people feel special._  
_Do you know what it’s like to like someone so much you can’t stand it and know that they’ll never feel the same way? Probably not. People like you don’t have to suffer through those kinds of things. It was easier after Dany moved and we stopped being friends. At least then I didn’t have to hear about it._  
_And now that the year is almost over, I know for sure that I am also over you. I’m immune to you now, Jon. I’m really proud to say that I’m the only girl in this school who has been immunized to the charms of Jon Snow. All because I had a really bad dose of you in seventh grade and most of eighth. Now I never ever have to worry about catching you again. What a relief! I bet if I did ever kiss you again, I would definitely catch something, and it wouldn’t be love. It would be an STD!_

____

____

_Sansa Stark."_

**This can't be happening.**

I must be dreaming. I must be safe in my bed, snuggled up in my PJ's with drool dribbling out the side of my mouth while this nightmare plays out in my subconscious, because the alternative is unbearable. The alternative is incorrigible. The alternative is that Jon Snow, my first kiss, former best friend's boyfriend and 7th grade crush is standing in front of me, glaring out at me from behind his stupidly perfect eyebrows...and holding the love letter I wrote to him when I was 12 years old.

No. I have to be dreaming. I have to be -

'Sansa?'

Jon's annoyed voice startles me back to the present...the horrific, mortifying present, and I blink rapidly, trying to steady myself against a wave of dizziness. Seven Hells, I feel faint.

'Um...' I say, struggling for words, my mouth like cotton as my stomach hollows out. 'Wh-what?'

Jon sighs in exasperation. 'Look...' He reaches up to rub the back of his neck and my eyes snag on his biceps, the short sleeves of his shirt riding up even further to reveal the curved and cut muscles of his arm. Stupid, beautiful Jon. Why did he have to be so handsome? I'm certain I wouldn't feel half so humiliated and nervous right now if he wasn't so....so....

'I'm flattered. I am, but - ' Jon is saying, and I snap back to attention, not wanting to annoy him again. But then I wince. The look on his face is far less than pleased, and I get the distinct impression that the 'flattered' comment was simply meant as politeness.

He's pissed. And he has a right to be, really. Some of the things I said in that letter.... _Gods._

My belly dips just thinking about them.

Jon has gone quiet, clearly struggling to find words sufficient enough to be both civil and not an outright lie. He probably doesn't want to lead me on. The crazy, obsessed girl who got hung up on a meaningless childhood kiss and ranted about it in a letter like a psycho. Yep. Definitely don't want to reignite _that crush._

'Jon,' I say, sighing and ignoring how brittle my voice sounds even to my own ears. 'You really don't have to say anything. I'm sorry, ok? For everything I said. I wrote that letter a really long time ago and I was mostly just mad. I didn't...mean any of it.'

Lie. I did. At the time. But the truth will do me no favours. Damage control is key. 

But then Jon's eyebrows lift, and a certain spark of _something_ enters his eyes.

'Nothing?' he asks, his voice dripping with what I'm sure is a hint of disappointment. Huh. His hand has stalled on the back of his neck, all of his attention fixed on my face, awaiting my next words...and then I realise...

_Up close, your face wasn’t so much handsome as beautiful._

'Well,' I say, my cheeks flaming as I lower my eyes. I scuff my boots on the tiled floor of the hallway and try to keep my voice steady. 'I did mean...some things.' _Like how beautiful you were and still are. How kind and confident you are. Those things were and still are true._

I don't tell him that though. Because I'm a coward. And this is the worst moment of my life and I'm desperate for it to be over.

Jon is silent and when I dare a glance back up at him, I'm startled to find that his eyes are lit with amusement and a soft smile is playing on his lips. Like he's gratified, pleased. Did he really care what I thought _that much?_

'Well...uh...thanks...I guess.' If I'm not mistaken, his shoulders visibly relax. Weird.

I chew the inside of my lip and nod, crossing my arms across my chest as if for protection.

This brief respite ends quickly, however, as Jon's smile fades and he glances back down at the letter with a sigh. Some of the stiffness has definitely gone from the set of his torso and lines of his face, but when he next speaks, his words are still laced with a thread of discomfort. 'Even so...you know nothing can happen, right? I mean...me and Dany _just_ broke up and we - '

'I know,' I blurt, unwilling to stand here while he brushes me off like some kind of love sick puppy. _Gods, I don't even like him like that! Not anymore._ 'I told you, it was a long time ago. I don't feel that way anymore and you...have nothing to worry about.' 

I shake my head and sigh again. When will this day end? 'I don't even know how you got that letter, Jon. You were never meant to see it. And I never had any intention of - ' I stop myself and close my eyes, breathing deeply for a moment to calm myself. 

He doesn’t need to know the details. That would only prolong this. And honestly? I’m not willing to delve into my embarrassing habit right now - or ever - of writing letters to all the boys I’ve ever had feelings for, letters I still keep and read for...some weird reason even _I_ can’t explain. Well, until they were stolen and mailed by some unknown malevolent force hellbent on destroying my life.

After a beat, I open my eyes and say, 'You have nothing to worry about.'

I’m surprised at the forcefulness in my tone considering how close I am to collapsing like a tower of cards. But no matter how much I feel like crying right now, I _am_ sure of one thing: I no longer have feelings for Jon Snow.

I hold his eyes for a moment, determined to make him believe me...and after a few seconds, he finally nods and tries for a strained smile. 'Uh...ok then. Yeah. Ok.'

I nod back and breathe a sigh of relief.

'So...are we done now?' I ask, anxious and fidgety as I wait to be released from this torture. To run far, far away and preferably find the nearest hole to bury myself in.

'I....guess so?' Jon shrugs. It feels like he wants to say more but there's nothing _to_ say and it's obvious to both of us that the awkwardness level is rising higher by the second.

Finally, mercifully – with one last curious sweep of his eyes across my face - he begins to turn away. I'm just about to sob from relief when he stops! - _Seven Hells!_...and turns back to me, slowly holding his hand out between us. It takes me a moment to realise what he’s doing. 'Do you...uh....?'

'Yes!' I grab the letter from him like it's the last life preserver on a sinking ship and hold it to my chest with both hands. 'Thank you.'

His eyes widen in surprise, but I don't give him any more time to react. Or judge me. I’ve had enough of that for one day. So I nod gratefully and flash him a forced - albeit what I hope is a convincing - smile, turning and heading quickly down the hallway...before he can call my name and drag me back to Hell.

I quicken my pace as the hallway begins to get busier, the narrow passageway soon throbbing with the crowd of bodies all heading to their next classes and stopping by their lockers on the way.

I fight to squeeze through the throng, the letter clasped tightly against my chest...

_Just breathe. Just get to your locker. Get your things and go. Go see the nurse. Fake an injury. Say you twisted your ankle in Gym. Just say **anything**...but get the hell out of here._

I keep moving forward, repeating that mantra in my head... _just breathe, breathe, get to your locker, breathe_... but then I see him. And I see _it_. And my heart stops as I grind to a halt, and the entire bottom falls out of my world.

Gendry is standing at my locker, his shoulders tense and his eyes casting about anxiously as he clearly scans the crowds for my face...and he's holding the letter I sent him.

A letter identical to the one I’m currently holding. Full of the same kind of platitudes and endearments. Except this is worse. Because Gendry is my oldest friend, the boy next door, the first person I ever really liked, practically a member of my family and Gendry is...

_Gods._

Gendry is my sister’s boyfriend.

Well...ex, if you wanna be pedantic about it. But like... _recent ex_. I’m talking weeks. And she still loves him so...

Yep.

I’m going to Hell.

_Oh gods._

Oh Gods. Oh Gods. Oh Gods. Oh Gods. No.

The mortification I felt with Jon only moments before pales in comparison to the blinding panic that rushes through my veins in that moment. I can't see. I can't breathe. My heart is pounding painfully inside my chest. My mouth runs dry. And when Gendry's eyes lock on me and he begins to move forwards with a frown marring his brow and a hard set to his jaw, I do the only thing I can.

I turn around and run away.

I hear him call my name but I keep moving. I _have_ to keep moving. I have no idea where I'm going – my locker is behind me, as is the nurse's office and my next class – but I just need to be... _away_. I can't do this.

How is this even happening? How are these letters out? Who sent them? And why?!

This morning I woke up thinking this would be a completely normal day. I'd go to school. Eat lunch. Go home. Do homework. Have dinner. Maybe finish the romance novel on my night-stand. And now...now my entire universe is crumbling around me.

First Jon and now – wait! Jon!

I squint my eyes and see him up ahead. He's walking away from me now, his black T-shirt and curls a rapidly disappearing speck at the end of the hallway.

And I don't know what compels me – well, I _do_ know: fear. Fear and panic and stress and worry. Anxiety that my sister's boyfriend will think I love him - even though I kinda, sorta think I might. _Seven Hells!_ \- and what that would mean for me now. That's the fire which lights me up as I race down the hall to catch Jon Snow, the boy I just told in no uncertain terms that my childhood crush on him was long gone, that he had no reason to worry about my feelings resurfacing.

This is the motivation moving my arms and legs into position as I skid to a breathless stop directly behind him and grab him by the shoulder.

But I have no idea, _no idea at all_ , what propels the spark of insanity that makes me raise up on my tiptoes as soon as he turns, wrap my arms around his neck as he rears back in surprise...and plant my mouth on his.

_Silence._

I squeeze my eyes shut and just hold my lips to his. Still and quiet. Just waiting. Like one of those poor souls in Pompeii, forever immortalized in their final position. I block out everything. Focusing on nothing but the distant corner of my mind where my subconscious has fled until this is all over and I can resurface again safely. Everything fades to a dim, distant roar.

The sounds of the hallway around me, the gasps and laughs of surprise from those nearby watching me throw myself at one of the most popular boys in school, the chill on the bottom of my back as my top rides up, the niggling worry at the base of my skull that Gendry is somewhere behind me...watching, seeing...

But there's one thing I can't silence. One thing which takes me by surprise, pierces my protective bubble and shatters my senses into stark sensation: Jon's lips on mine. The feel of them, the softness. His stubble tickles my chin and his lips, warm and unmoving under mine are -

No. Wait. _Not unmoving._

Jon's stiff shoulders are softening under my fingers, the tense set of his muscles which locked up when I jumped into his arms are relaxing and folding me towards him, pulling me closer. And his lips...his lips are pressing back into me, bleeding into mine and heating under my touch as shock thrills through my body and a startled gasp gets swallowed by his mouth.

_Jon Snow is kissing me back._


	2. The way it happens is a strange sort of serendipity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has two big problems.  
> She's kissed one, and sent a forbidden love letter to the other.  
> And one of them has just shown up at her door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *You know that thing I said about updating this fic every day? Let’s just forget that, k? lmao  
> **I was planning to. I really was. But...basically...I widely overestimated my ability for brevity i.e it doesn’t exist. And I decided I wanted it to be longer, and more detailed, just… _meatier._ Which I just couldn’t do every day. So I went away to work on it…and this is unfortunately, because of life and stuff, the soonest I could get anything of substance posted.  
>  ***Soooo…I know it’s been 84 years and you’ve probably lost interest. But I hope you enjoy it all the same.  
> ****The next update will _not_ be as long in coming. And I mean it this time….I know, I know. Promises, promises. _But_ …I have all the chapters outlined. So it shouldn’t take me so long to piece it all together….she says this now lol.  
> *****Anyway, yep. Thanks for being patient! ❤  
> >>READ/REBLOG/LIKE ON TUMBLR: https://mediiciis.tumblr.com/post/179322452001/to-all-the-boys-ive-loved-before-jonsa-au

He won't stop calling me.

I let the current call go to Voicemail and then cease my obsessive pacing of my bedroom and pick up my phone with an anxious wince, despite knowing exactly what it will say.

**12 missed calls – Gendry Waters.**

I groan and continue walking from one side of the room to the other, one hand clutching my phone - the damn thing like a grenade just waiting to explode yet again in my palm – and the other at my mouth as I nibble my poor fingernails to nubs.

Like clockwork, my demonic ringtone blasts out from my hand, and I throw myself face first onto the bed, burying my face in the cushions and whimpering like an overgrown baby, as the mountain of pillows muffle my anguished cry.

No sooner has the last call ended than my phone chimes with the sound of a message, and my head whips to the side. So long as he was calling me, I could block myself off to whatever he had to say. But clearly realising he was getting nowhere by waiting for me to pick up, he's obviously decided to strike at me from a different angle.

_Jerk!_

I hesitate before finally reaching out...and even then my hand hovers inches from the phone beside my pillow.

After a standoff that lasts far too long for an inanimate object, I scowl at myself and sigh, grabbing the bull by the horns – so to speak – and swiping the damn thing towards me almost violently.

I hold my breath as my eyes scan over the text on the lock screen.

_**'WE NEED TO TALK!!!'** _

_Oh shit._

All caps? THREE exclamation points?

_NOT TODAY, SATAN!_

I power my phone down and shove it under my pillow just for good measure, before whipping around onto my back and staring up at the ceiling.

There are still some of those old, worn, glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the faded and cracking paint, that I plastered up there when I was little. And my eyes get stuck on one in particular next to the lampshade as my thoughts begin to wander.

I breathe deeply through the new, merciful silence filling the room. Turning my phone off probably should have been the first thing I did when I got home, but I guess I'm conditioned to always have it with me, like a lifeline or limb, and cutting myself off from it feels...unnatural, somehow.

Besides, I was far too busy earlier to think of anything else except – pardon my language –  _freaking the fuck out._

I managed to convince the nurse that I had a sore throat after...well, let's just call it  _The Event._  And from that moment on, I had had a one track mind: get home, get to the letters. A stupid as shit plan really considering I knew for a fact that at least  _two_  of them were out there in the world, causing havoc and ruining my perfectly ordered - if slightly dull – life.

And just as I expected, after I'd raced up to my room and torn my bottom drawer apart in search of the box I kept them in...I found the bastard thing gone. And all 5 letters with it.

I found it hard to shed a tear for the other three, though. The ones to Jon and Gendry were, by far, the worst culprits, and the other's would barely make a dent after the earthquake that had already ripped through my world.

When my dad and brothers got home a few hours after me, I told them I was too sick to leave my room, and when I heard Arya's voice downstairs, I just about barricaded myself inside. Sending a message to 'The Fam' group chat to try and convince them all that I was dreadfully contagious.

No-one had bothered me since, except a few worried visits from my dad to ask if I was alright. I had sent him away every time with fake coughs and croaky assurances that I was far too 'tender' to see anybody.

I just...can't be around my family right now. There's no way.

I've felt like crying since the moment I left school, and there's always something about being in front of someone you feel intimately comfortable around. It makes my defences crash to the ground, and I can't do that...because then they would want to know. And in my grief I might just tell them. And that would be bad. Catastrophic.  _Code Black._  Because then Arya would find out that I've been hardcore crushing on her man the entire time they've been together. And that...well that makes me wanna fire up my laptop and Google Search ways to fake your own death.

Just when I'm contemplating braving the storm and turning my phone back on to shoot my best friend, Jeyne, a quick reply to the text she sent me earlier when I didn't show up for afternoon lessons...a soft tap comes at the door. 'Sans?'

I freeze like a deer in headlights, my entire body going rigid.

Oh shit.

_Arya._

Did Gendry talk to her? Is she here to murder me?

I sit up slowly, eyeing the door like it's a poisonous snake. 'Hmm?'

'Dad sent me up with some soup.'

Soup? Oh right. I'm sick.

'Uh...that's alright,' I say, trying to make my voice sound as husky as possible. 'I'm doing ok. I've got my water. I'm fine. Thanks though!'

I hear her sigh even through the door. 'Well, he told me not to come back down with it still on the tray, so...' I know, even though I can't see her, that she's shrugging. 'Maybe do me a solid?'

A slither of panic races through me. I'm not ready to see her, to face her. It doesn't sound like she knows anything yet, but the truth will be written on my face, I just know it.

'It's heavy, Sans,' she complains in an exaggerated whine. 'Come onnnnnnnn.' And then, in a voice tinted with playfulness: 'I also brought cookies.'

_Cookies?_  My stomach growls at the thought. I skipped dinner under the pretence of being ill and not wanting to be around anybody, but I haven't actually eaten since lunch and I'm starting to get pretty hungry. Not enough to open the door for my dad's measly chicken-broth soup, but cookies? I remember seeing them on the counter when I came in earlier – probably a gift from our elderly neighbour, Mrs Tyrell - and just the thought of them has me salivating.

So somehow I find myself swallowing the saliva in my mouth and saying, 'Um...ok. Sure.'

She waits for a beat and then says, 'You locked the door, sis.'

Oh. Right.

I get up and unlock the door for her, opening it slowly as if I'll find a firing squad on the other side. But as soon as the door inches forwards even a little bit, Arya barrels inside, carelessly pushing it the rest of the way and practically shoving me aside as she passes.

That's Arya.

While I'm all quiet and timid and walking on eggshells to avoid attention of any kind, she blazes in like a bull in a China shop, saying and doing whatever she wants with no fear or hesitation.

It's how she got Gendry, after all. He was my friend before he was her anything, and my crush long before she even noticed him. But while I was too scared for too long and dragged my feet about admitting my feelings, Gendry was clearly growing more desirable by the day, because the second she recognised it she made it clear what she wanted...and the rest is history.

It's odd, sometimes.

She's the 'little sister' and yet she's the one who stands the tallest. Always protecting me, always looking out. Always the one to try something first because I'm too scared, always trailblazing the path for me to follow behind. Arya did everything before me: climbing trees, riding a bike, drinking...boys. She's the one with the long term, monogamous relationship, after all, and me? Well, I've never even had a boyfriend before. I'm an entire year older than her and yet I feel like I'm trailing behind her in so many ways.

All because I'm too scared, all the time...of everything.

If only I was more like her...things could have been so much different. Gendry could...well...Gendry could be  _my_  boyfriend right now. Not hers. Not that he is her boyfriend anymore. Not technically. But still. He's hers. He always will be.

She bounds over to the bed and sits with the plate of cookies in her hand, shoving one into her mouth at the same time. 'So, whats up with you?' She asks around a mouthful of chewy, chocolaty dough.

I fidget beside the door. 'Um...nothing. What do you mean?'

So far, so good.  _Keep it up, Sans. Just be vague. Give nothing away. You can do it._

Arya pauses, her cookie frozen in mid-air, and frowns at me...and I think I've fucked it.  _Shit!_  But then she says, 'You said you were sick.'

'Oh! Um...yeah. I am.' I cough and place a hand to my throat with a practiced whimper, but even I know it's a pathetic attempt.

I dare a peek at Arya, and find her watching me with a raised eyebrow. Clearly not buying it. 'Fine,' she finally says after a moment, with a dismissive wave of her hand. 'Don't tell me. It's not like I haven't faked a cough and cut out of school early before.'

'You have?'

'Sure,' she shrugs. 'I used to do it a lot when me and Gendry were dating.'

_Gendry._  The name is like a bucket of ice water to my face.

'Wh-why,' I ask, simply to make conversation more than anything. I clear my throat, even though the raspiness of it would actually aid my lie.

She looks down at the plate and picks up another cookie. 'Different stuff. Sometimes because we'd been arguing and I was upset and couldn't bear being around anyone. Other times it was just...' She grows quiet and her voice softens to nothing more than a whisper. 'Sometimes it was just so we could spend time together.'

And for the first time since this horrid day started, I actually think about somebody other than myself.

I've been so consumed with my own drama and worries concerning Gendry, anxious that my sister might find out and be angry, that I've completely forgotten the reasons  _why_  she could possibly feel that way...not just angry, but upset,  _heartbroken._  Because she still loves him. It's clear as day to anybody with eyes, and she's obviously still struggling.

My chest caves with sympathy. 'Are you ok?'

When she looks up at me she's smiling ruefully, but when she shrugs as if it's not a big deal, I know for sure that it is. That's another thing about my sister. She masks her pain with a smile. and the bigger the smile, the bigger the pain. 'I'm fine.' Her expression changes almost instantly and she holds the plate up. 'You having one of these or not?'

My stomach rumbles again at the sight of the plate, and the mountain of mouthwatering treats on top of it, and I give in and move to sit beside her on the bed because...well, because she has the food.

I take one from the plate and we nibble away in silence for a few moments.

While I'm eating, it's easy to distract myself from my own woes and I decide to shift focus from me even further. 'Hey, Arya?' I hedge.

She doesn't look up. 'Hmm?'

I'm not sure I should ask. After all, if she wanted me to know she'd offer the information herself, right? But given my own recent induction into the Arya/Gendry drama, I figure the more information I have at my disposal, the better. Plus...curiosity is eating away at me. So I find myself asking, 'Why did you and Gendry break up?'

I don't expect her to answer, so I'm surprised when she shrugs softly without looking at me and says, 'We wanted different things.'

Huh.

That doesn't make sense to me. At all. Arya and Gendry were, for all intents and purposes, the 'perfect couple.' They were  _always_  together - one of those couples that were literally joined at the hip - and I rarely saw them fighting. They kissed a lot, held each other's hands almost constantly and were, just generally, an all around, adorable, gag-fest of cute. Which was what made it so much harder for me when they first got together as kids.

It wasn't like I wanted Arya to be unhappy. Or Gendry, for that matter. But there was always a small part of me that was expecting it all to be a phase that eventually fizzled out, and, if I'm being honest...I couldn't exactly hide the anticipation that came with that thought, at first.

When it didn't...when it went on and on and on, and soon replaced the impression of my parent's marriage as the foremost expression of committed monogamy in my life, that hope quickly faded. And resignation took it's place.

My crush on Gendry was still there.  _Always._  I still admired him, I still wondered 'what if?', I still found myself looking at him longer than was necessary and thinking about him when I probably shouldn't have been either, but I honest to Gods never believed anything would ever happen between us. Not anymore. I had put that to bed. It became a bittersweet kind of longing; destined to never be fulfilled.

It was Arya and Gendry's commitment to one another which had spurred that resolve into existence, so my sister's words ring hollow. And I say as much.

'I...I don't get it. You were great together.'

Another shrug. 'Well sure, but...' She trails off and chews the inside of her cheek, thinking.

'Ok, so it's like this: recently, me and Gendry have been talking a lot about the future. What our dreams are, our plans, our goals. Things we want to do together, what we want our future to be...you know...'

'That's sweet,' I say. Most guys would balk at such thoughts of lifelong commitment, but not Gendry. He always was mature for his age.

'I know,' she sighs, like the thought of Gendry's clear devotion to her is a dagger in the heart. 'But it started to dawn on me that...the things we want and value, our plans...they're  _different._  And I realised that, as much as we'd fight it and try our hardest at first...we'd probably end up being one of those couples who drift away and break up in college.'

I'm startled.

I always used to picture Arya and Gendry being together in my head whenever I would think of the future. It was just a foregone conclusion, a part of the furniture. So this is a shock to my system. It suddenly feels like somebody has reached into my head and jiggled everything about, moving that furniture and leaving the whole place overturned and unrecognisable.

'But...' I shake my head. 'You guys don't have to think about any of that right now. You won't be starting college for another few years yet. So why - '

_'Because..._ ' Arya replies with another weary sigh. 'I'll just keep falling more and more in love with him, Sansa, but it won't change the inevitable. Those things will still remain the same and they'll still break us, except...I'll be more attached and so will he and we'll find it a thousand times more difficult. It's hard now...but not as hard as it will be if I let this continue. I have to rip the band aid off. Nip it in the bud while it's still ahead.'

Her words sound jarringly clinical to my over-romanticised ears, but deep down I can acknowledge the wisdom in her decision. And then another thing occurs to me, curling deep and unpleasant inside my gut.

I already knew that Arya didn't dump Gendry out of a lack of love. They had been far too happy for that. But not I know, unequivocally, that far from being a lessening of feelings for him that precipitated their breakup, it was actually the strength of them that led to her heartbreaking decision. Meaning....she really will be gutted to learn of mine.

I have to bury this. I have to make it all go away. I just don't know how.

Gendry will never forget that letter. He'll want to talk. I'll be too embarrassed. Things will never be the same between us. Arya will notice us not being friendly anymore. And then she'll question me and I'll cave and Gendry will want to tell her the truth because he's Gendry and she's Arya and they're Gendry and Arya and I...wish the world would swallow me up right now.

And then I hear the three words which are guaranteed to have me dissolving into a puddle of panic. 'Gendry is here.'

Both mine and Arya's heads whip to the doorway, where one of our younger brother's, Bran, is standing. His head is wedged between the slightly open door and the frame, his dark eyes practically luminous against his pale skin.

'What?!' Me and Arya screech as we simultaneously jump to our feet.

I do a double take at my sister and recover quickly, realising  _I_  have no right to such an extreme reaction. 'I mean...uh...what is he doing here? They  _just_  broke up! She doesn't want to see him!' I look at Arya. 'Right?'

'Right!' She nods, though there's clear hesitation in her voice and I can't ignore the stark longing in her eyes. 'Only...' She turns to Bran. 'How did he look?'

Bran stares back at her blankly. 'Like Gendry?'

She tuts and places the plate of cookies on my bed before rushing towards him. 'No. I mean...did he look ok? Upset? Happy? Like he's moved on?' She gasps and places a hand on her heart, all the blood draining from her face. 'Oh Gods, what if he's here to tell me he's found someone else?'

'Not likely,' I assure her instantly, my gut clenching in dread. Not only am I certain that Gendry will not move on from Arya for a long time or be so callous as to show up at her door to boast about it, but I'm about one thousand percent certain that he's not here to see her at all. He's here for me.

Arya turns back to Bran and practically grabs him by the shirt. 'Does he look gaunt? Do you think he's been eating? Oh Gods, I hope he's taking care of himself.'

Bran disentangles himself from our sister with a huff of irritation. 'I don't bloody know, Arya. I l just opened the door, looked at him and he said, 'I need to talk to your sister.' That was literally the end of our interaction.'

'Well why didn't you ask how he was?!' She demands almost comically. She looks like a crazy person, her eyes wide and blazing.

'Because I'm not a weirdo who goes around asking guys what their emotions are?' Bran asks with a confused scowl on his face.

If I wasn't freaking out right now I would have laughed, but as it is...

_I need to speak to your sister._

Your sister.

_Oh Gods._  He's here for me, I know it.

Bran didn't ask which one because he figured it was a foregone conclusion and as soon as Arya goes down there, Gendry will probably correct her and tell her he's here to see me. And  _why._

My eyes instantly begin to scan the room.  _I need to get out of here._

Yep. Once again, I'm running away.  _Poor Gendry,_  I start to think. But then quickly quash it. I can't afford to feel any sympathy for him right now. As far as my brain is aware, he's the enemy.

'Can I go back to my game now?' Bran asks sullenly. 'I've been AFK for ages.'

Arya just grumbles and pushes past him, with a shove that knocks him back a full step. He stares after her with a mutinous glare for a moment before looking back at me, a barely-there glint of confusion in his brown eyes. 'What's with you?'

I stop chewing my fingernails and cursing my room for an escape hatch long enough to glance at him. 'Hmm?'

He narrows his eyes for a second, but then just shrugs in disinterest and walks back to his room, clearly not curious enough to stay and figure me out. And thank the Gods for that, because right now I need to leave. I need to think and escape and I need to do it quick.

My eyes search the small space, desperate for a way I can get out of the house without being seen.

I'm just about to lose all hope when my gaze lights on the window, and I'm moving towards it before I can even think twice. Because I'm panicking and I need to think fast...and when I'm panicking I apparently think... _wrong._

The blasted thing is open, one leg is out and I'm straddling the frame before I'm able to ponder the consequences.

We used to do this all the time when we were kids. When we were younger and stupid and not afraid of getting hurt.

One quick swing towards the left and I'm hooked around the wide drainpipe beside my window, and shimming down the house to the lawn below.

I haven't done this in years so my descent is pretty sloppy. My hands slip multiple times, making me yelp in terror, my thighs shake as they cling desperately to the pipe, and my knees scrape the uneven surface of the brick wall as I push myself quickly to the bottom.

But the old thing is as sturdy as always, and before I know it I'm launching to the ground at the back of the house, rushing across the grass towards the towering hedge at the bottom of the garden, and dropping to my knees to crawl hastily through the tiny opening I know from memory is there.

By the time I make it to the path at the back of our row of houses, I'm a sweaty, dirty, breathless mess.

But I'm  _free._

Straightening to full height I glance around, panting as I rub the dirt and grass from my knees. As soon as I see my little neighbour, Lyanna Mormont, playing with her tiny pink bike two houses down, my mind blazes with an idea.

I instantly rush over and smile as brightly as I can. 'Hey, Kid, wanna make a few coins?'

She stares up at me with wide eyes. Ok, so I probably look pretty threatening. Panting and sweaty with dirt on my jeans and my hair in disarray. But she knows me. I babysit for her all the time, and so I know it will wear off quick.

And it does.

Just as I predicted, she smiles up at me with a gap toothed grin, the interest sharp and clear in her light brown eyes. 'Money?'

I nod eagerly. '10 silver stags to borrow your bike for an hour.'

She looks at the bike – her obvious pride and joy - and then back at me, her face scrunched in thought, and what looks like a tinge of doubt. I'm about to tell her it doesn't matter when she finally nods with a mischievous smirk. '20. _Gold dragons_.'

_Little brat!_

I sigh, but give her a reluctant nod. Anything to get away from here. 'Ok. 20.'

She smiles in smug victory and pushes her bike over to me. I begin to mount the tiny thing as she strokes the sides of it proudly. 'My daddy just gave it a repaint, and put this new basket in the front for my doll. It's beautiful, isn't it?'

I eye the bike dubiously as I settle onto the bright fuchsia seat. It  _is_  beautiful. If you're 12. I don't particularly want to be riding around town on a tiny, pink, glittery bike with a white wicker basket and plastic flowers fixed to the front. But do I  _not_  want that more than I don't want to stay in the house and face Gendry? Absolutely-fucking-not.

_Pick your poison, Sans._

I shoot Lyanna a thin smile. 'I'll put the money in your mailbox later.'

She bobs her little head in excitement, no doubt thinking about the further upgrades she can make to her bike with the money.

With anybody else she might have demanded it upfront, but she knows I'm good for it. I'm responsible, respectable and  _boring_  Sansa Stark. I don't have the boldness, confidence or guts to stiff anybody.

I nod back and make to peddle away, but she stops me with a startled cry. 'Wait! Don't you want my helmet?'

She tugs the white strap around her chin, a strap attached to the bright pink helmet sitting atop her head, and I visibly shudder. 'Uh. No. Let's leave that, ok?'

She merely shrugs, clearly not insulted by my slight or not even realising I made one at all, and watches me take off.

It's a bit of a hassle, getting used to the tiny thing beneath me, and I stutter and start a few times....but I'm on my way soon enough, pedaling as fast as I can away from my house and towards the only place I know I'll find refuge.

I ignore the blatant stares, whispers and giggles as I head to the edge of town. I don't care about them half as much as I care about being as far from my sister and Gendry as is physically possible.

I don't stop riding until I get to my destination, not even when my calf's begin to ache and my chest begins to burn with the ragged breaths tearing in and out of my lungs.

Only when the familiar white shutters and bright green flashing neon sign come into view, do I slow to a stop and hop off the bike, leaning it against the wall in front of my favourite diner,  _Dee’s._

It's a 'greasy spoon' type of place, right off the beaten track of the main high street. Me and my mum discovered it back before she was sick on one of our special Saturdays.

With a house full of boys and the tom boy Arya to contend with, Saturdays were the only time mum and I got to do something just for the two of us, something we were both interested in, since we were always going to football matches and action movies to keep everybody else happy the rest of the time.

We would spend the afternoon in town, looking through the vintage clothes stores and bookshops and then drinking coffees, eating cake and gossiping about silly things, like boys and trashy reality shows.

Arya was never into that kind of thing and she was always with Gendry on the weekends anyway, so Saturday was just  _our_  time. For us. For me.

It was the only time I felt important, seen. It wasn't my mum's fault. I knew. She had a house full of rowdy boys and a brash tomboy to hold her attention. And since I was pretty sensible, quiet and well-behaved I basically flew under the radar the majority of the time.

On Saturday's though..her attention was entirely mine. My opinion was valued, my jokes laughed at. It was  _my_  grades being talked about and praised, my interests and my hobbies.

I cherished those days.

I make my way inside, the bell chiming as I pass, and inhale...letting the smells and sounds of the bustling diner instantly put me at ease. This was the soundtrack to my happy childhood, and I let myself become immersed in it, like sinking into a warm bubble bath.

I move towards the counter and take a seat at one of the tall, red, leather-covered stools. Mum and I always used to sit in a booth by the window, but that's too painful now. Still, my eyes sweep over it briefly as I wait to be served. I can't help it.

I feel a painful clench inside my chest as I imagine mum sitting there in the familiar worn chair. Always on the side facing away from the door, always playing absently with the packets of sugar as she talked to me about anything and everything. Making me feel instantly better like honey on a sore throat.

'Hey, sweetie!' I turn back to the counter with a heavy heart, only to be met by the grey hair, faded blue eyes and friendly smile of the owner and namesake of the diner, Dee. 'I wasn't expecting to see you tonight.'

She's holding a pot full of steaming coffee and wearing the standard uniform - ugly yellow dress with frills and white apron covered in stains.

Dee was always the one who served me and my mum when we came in here, and she rapidly became one of my favourite people. We were here so often she started to give us free pie, cake and shakes, and even invented a milkshake for me she lovingly dubbed  _The Sansa_  – to be made for me only, on her strict orders.

She grew to be very important to me over the years,  _and_  to mum, and even came to her funeral. Now she's like an Aunt to me, and honestly one of the best people I know.

She, and this place, has been a lifeline for me the past few years.

After mum died, it became too painful to be here so often. There was a time when I couldn't come at all, couldn't even drive or walk past without getting choked up. It reminded me too much of mum and what I'd lost. But after a while, the pain eased...and I began to seek out my memories of her instead of hiding from them. I wanted to soak up everything about her that I still could. Her old perfumes, her scarves and shirts with her scent still clinging to the fabric, her favourite novels – worn and falling apart, with the bookmark still where she had left it.

And I wanted to be  _here._  In this place that had made her so happy and where we had shared so much. Even though the first time I stepped back through the door I had burst into tears, unable to stop even when Dee wrapped her arms around me, and even though I could only stay for minutes at a time, I still liked to come here and remember her. Remember  _us._  Even if it was only every now and then.

Over time, I was able to visit more often. And, honestly, I began to miss Dee so much that I fought through the pain whenever it resurfaced.

And now, even though I don't come every Saturday anymore, I still visit when I'm upset or just need to be cheered up. It's still my haven. Still my safe place. Even if mum isn't here with me.

It still makes me feel the way she once did. It holds the memory of her in it's walls and smell, it's feel. In every clink of silverware and blast of the jukebox. She left her mark and imprint everywhere. And all the things we used to talk about, the way she used to make me feel when we were here....they still linger, like echoes.

I shrug and smile back at Dee, feeling lighter all of a sudden. 'Needed to get out of the house.'

Dee nods in understanding. She knows all about my family full of brothers, and probably assumes me fleeing here is something to do with them, a search for some much needed peace and quiet.

I choose not to correct her. What would I say anyway? She also knows about Arya and Gendry and the fact that they're together. It's not like I can confide in even her.

Nope. I'm on my own for this one. The thought makes me feel sad and lonely and completely helpless, and I miss my mum in this moment more than ever before.

I would be able to tell her everything. She would never have judged me. She loved me. She would have comforted me and figured out  _everything._ A way to handle it all without upsetting Arya, who she would never want to hurt.

My shoulders slump as I sit there and think of the hole she's left in my life.

_I miss her._

Dee notices the change in me instantly, and whether she knows I'm thinking about mum or not, she decides to take action. 'You look like you need to inject your bloodstream with an inordinate amount of sugar,' she diagnoses with a cheeky grin. 'The usual?'

I laugh and nod. 'Always.'  _The usual_  is my personal milkshake and just the sight of it can lessen all my woes every single time.

She winks at me and moves away to make my drink, and while I'm waiting I decide to use the time to do some much needed damage control.

Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I turn it on only long enough to type my dad a quick text about feeling better suddenly and deciding to study with some friends at the library. He'll believe it. It's me, after all. I'm far too dull to be out doing anything irresponsible or dangerous.

I wince when I see the messages from other people flooding my inbox: Arya, Jeyne (again – my dad probably called her after I disappeared), Gendry!  _Oh Gods._  I make my eyes skip across his texts. I don't want to see what they say, won't allow the stress to infiltrate the fragile harmony I'm clinging onto so desperately.

After the message to dad is  _'delivered'_ , I power the phone down again and place it on the counter in front of me, waiting a beat before reaching out and pushing it even further away so that it's right over by the sugar shakers.

I then nod in satisfaction, breathe a sigh of relief and straighten up in my seat...only to be distracted by a soft chuckle from beside me.

I glance to my left and my entire body immediately freezes.

Jon Snow is sitting two seats down from me, lounging on a stool with his ridiculously attractive forearms resting on the counter and looking over at me with amusement in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

I jerk back and audibly gasp.

This pulls another grin from his stupid, delicious mouth, and he raises a hand to rake through his hair. 'Hey, Stark.'

'I...what...you...' I begin to sputter, and he uses my sudden in-eloquence as an opportunity to call towards Dee.

'Hey, could I get a coffee, please? Black. No sugar.'

_Ugh._  Even the way he takes his coffee is badass. I need everything sweetened to tooth aching levels like a wimp.

_Bastard._

He turns back to me with a patient set of grey eyes. 'You about decided what word you wanna use yet?'

_Oh!_  Fury rushes through me. Fast and hot and brutal. I don't need this today. My nervousness quickly turns to irritation and impatience.

'What are you doing here?' I snap.

This is my haven, dammit! My safe place. I came here to escape all of today's crap. And here, like a vision from hell, my second worst decision of the day is sitting in front of me.

He reaches forwards to play with a tube full of multicoloured straws, not even looking at me and replying as casually as the day is long, 'I followed you.'

_What?_

'You...' I shake my head and close my eyes for a second.  _What the hell is going on?_  'What do you mean, you followed me?'

He looks back at me like I have three heads, like  _I'm_  the crazy one. 'I mean I saw you coming here and trailed you in my car. Cute bike, by the way,' he adds, with a mocking smirk.

'Shut up,' I say, turning fully towards him now, far too confused and exasperated to even stop and marvel at my sudden boldness around him. 'How did you see me? Where?'

Jon drops the straws and sighs – sighs! Like  _I'm_  the one irritating  _him!_  - and turns towards me, mimicking my position.

It's so strange seeing him out of school. Like running into a teacher at the grocery store. We've never hung out, not as teenagers, anyway. The last time we were really in any kind of social situation together was when we were twelve and he was planting one on me. Since then Jon Snow has existed only in the side of my life and brain reserved for school and formal, educational settings. But this is my Saturday haven. This is about as far from school as you can get. This is...no. He's bleeding into the wrong part of my world. He doesn't belong here.

'I went to your house -'

'You went to my house?!'

'And I saw you jetting away from there like your ass was on fire,' he continues sternly, when I interrupt him. Then he shrugs. 'I decided to follow you and you came here. So...here I am.'

He grins, a cute, crooked smile, and I have to admit, my stomach dips. I have no idea what that's about exactly, but when Jon Snow smiles at you like that you'd be hard pressed to  _not_  feel something. That's what I tell my treacherous asshole heart when it flips anyway.

'Cute place, by the way,' Jon acknowledges, as he twists back towards the counter on his stool.

'Thanks, handsome,' Dee gushes, as she sets a coffee mug in front of him with a charmed smile.

Her light blue eyes are twinkling.  _Twinkling!_  Oh no. Please don't tell me he's working his magic on her. I know she doesn't get a lot of custom and definitely not from cute, young guys like him, but still...

She's holding my milkshake captive in her other hand, but doesn't make a move to put it in front of me. Nope. She's still staring at Jon, and when he glances back up at her and winks, I contemplate the possibility for a second that she might seriously have a cardiac arrest right there on the black and white tiled floor of the diner.

'Thanks...um...' His eyes dip to her name tag. 'Dee.'

She melts inside. I physically see it happen. And she's still staring at him, still smiling. And my milkshake is  _still_  in her hand.

'Ahem!' I cough, and she finally glances away.

'Oh! Sorry, honey,' she says, flustered and reddening in the cheeks.

Oh my god. I can't believe Dee is hot for Jon Snow! Can he not go  _anywhere_ without infecting every woman nearby with his disgusting disease? I was clearly just one of many when we were twelve.

Once again I feel that sour trickle of bitterness and embarrassment at the foolishness I exhibited, back when I seriously believed I was something special for a hot minute.

Dee puts the milkshake in front of me with an apologetic smile.

'Thanks,' I say, trying to soften my voice for her because...well, she's Dee and I love her. And I understand getting momentarily blinded by the magnetic allure of Jon 'bastard' Snow.

Speaking of which, I glare at him sideways as I take a sip of my shake. I hate that he's here. I'm supposed to come here and have my milkshake and instantly feel better. And now I'm stressed and it's all his fault.

He's drinking his coffee when I look at him and I try to ignore the way his biceps flex when he lifts it to his mouth, and the way his thick neck looks as he tips his head back and swallows the warm liquid. I feel my body heating but dismiss it. It's just a natural reaction to an attractive boy. Nothing more. And I have more important things to focus on.

Jon glances over at me and does a double take. He turns his body towards me again and his eyes widen in wonder.

'What is  _that?_ ' He asks, and the awe in his voice almost makes me laugh.

'This is my milkshake.'

'Looks good. Maybe I'll get one.'

'No can do, sugar,' Dee says, as she potters about behind the bright red counter.  _'The Sansa'_  has a very limited and exclusive clientele.'

He gapes at her, and then at me and my milkshake...and back to me again. 'You have your own milkshake? Seriously?'

I simply nod and take another exaggerated sip like an asshole just to flaunt it. 'Uh huh,' I mumble around the straw.

'And they're not allowed to sell it to anybody else?'

I swallow the strawberry flavoured milk in my mouth. 'On pain of death.'

He shakes his head in disbelief and, if I'm not mistaken, respect. 'That's crazy.'

I just shrug and turn back to my drink, swirling the straw around the multicoloured milk, ice cream mingling with the chocolate sauce as it all melts into the liquid. He's still staring at me – no, at my drink – and sighs so wistfully it makes my lips twitch. 'It really does look good.'

But then I sigh. This is getting us nowhere.

'Why did you go to my house, Jon? And how do you even know where it is?'

He's never been there and there's absolutely no reason for him to know where I live.

He narrows his eyes at me in confusion again, like he doesn't understand why I'm continuing to be so stupid. 'Dany used to go to yours all the time. I'd pick her up from your house or meet her at the end of your road before our dates.'

I can't help the scoff that escapes me. 'Dates? We were 12. What did you do? Play Mario Kart and feed the ducks?'

'Ha ha,' he mutters., taking another sip of coffee.

I stare at him. 'Jon.'

'Hmm?'

'You didn't answer my question.'

He swallows and nods. 'Right. Well, I just wanted to talk...about earlier,' he says vaguely, and so casually I really do marvel at him. Does  _anything_ bother him? At all?

Of course I know what he's talking about. But I play dumb.

'I...don't know what you mean.' I turn back to my milkshake, but can instantly feel his eyes on me. Practically feel the swift turn of his head in the air.

A moment of silence follows, and then an incredulous,  _'Really?'_

I continue to stare into my drink, my hand on the straw, just swirling. Swirling, swirling, swirling, swirl-

'Stark,' he says, the amusement in his voice grating at me. 'Come on,' he coaxes, like I'm a naughty child and he's trying to get me to admit to committing an act of disobedience.

I continue to avert my eyes, but I hear him sigh melodramatically and shift on his seat.

'Ok, let me refresh your memory.'

'Nope,' I say, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head, as if I can simply drown him out. And make him disappear through sheer will. But the bastard ignores me...like a bastard.  _Bastard._

'The last time I saw you, you were jumping into my arms and kissing the hell out of me. Then about 10 seconds later you pulled away like you'd electrocuted yourself on my mouth, said 'sorry' and legged it down the hallway, so...'

He trails off, clearly waiting for me to add my two cents, but I honestly have no interest on tugging on that thread. Not only because it was embarrassing as hell, but because the reason I ran away without saying anything other than 'sorry' after our kiss – which wasn't my original intention - was because he had started to kiss me back and it scared the hell out of me.

Also...I actually enjoyed it and that confuses me because I do not  _like_  Jon Snow  _like that_  and...honestly? This is all too much.  _I'm getting a headache._

When it becomes obvious that I'm not going to play ball, Jon sighs. 'Look, Stark....you're funny and cute, in a...weird, quirky way...'

_Wow, just what every girl wants to hear._

'But, like I said, Dany and I _just_ broke up, and things are weird with us anyway. I don't know if we're gonna be getting back together or if I even want to but I just -'

Ok. No.

'Can you just shut up for like one second?' I snap.

He rears back with wide eyes, but a slow smirk begins to lift his lips. I hate those lips. But he sure knows how to use them.

Ugh!  _Stop it!_

I squeeze my eyes shut again and breathe deeply, before turning to face him and straightening in my chair. I need this silliness to end now, I already have one mess to deal with.

'I don't need another brush-off, ok? I told you earlier...I don't like you that way. I'm not trying to date you.'

His eyes narrow with a frown and he waits for a beat before asking the question I know is coming. 'Then why did you kiss me?'

_Why did you kiss me back?_  I want to ask. But that's not important right now.

I sigh in exasperation and a little groan slips free from my lips. 'I kissed you because I  _don't_  like you, alright?'

He just stares at me, so I groan again, in mortification this time, and bury my face in my hands for about 20 seconds. When I resurface he's watching me curiously, still and silent. Just waiting.

'Ok, here's the thing,' I say, the words rushing out. 'I don't actually like you. I just had to pretend that I liked you so that somebody else didn't think I liked them. They were in the hallway earlier, you see, and I just had to act fast. I didn't think, I just...' I shrug. 'It was the first thing I thought of to do. Sorry....for what it's worth.' 

_Boy am I sorry._

He takes all of this information in with unnerving calm, his eyes sweeping over me, their gaze unreadable. I fidget under his perusal.

Finally, he nods, a slow assent. 'Ok.'

Although I'm surprised that he seems to buy it so quickly, I breathe a sigh of relief and nod with a soft smile, ready to turn back to my milkshake...until I hear his voice again:

'Who?

My blood runs cold. 'What?'

'Who do you like?'

I laugh nervously. 'Uh, yeah... _no._  I'm not telling you that.'

'Why?'

I give him  _a look._  'Because  _nobody_  knows. Why would I tell  _you,_  of all people?'

He rears back in mock insult. ' _'Of all people?'_  Damn, Stark. You wound me.'

I just roll my eyes. 'Look, I explained, ok? I'm sorry I dragged you into this. Can we just leave it?'

He looks at me for a long time, as if contemplating. Then, finally, he nods. 'Yeah ok. I get it.' Shrugging, he picks up his coffee mug. 'I figured it was something...like that. That's why I helped you.'

He takes a long sip and I watch him. Naturally. He makes it look positively carnal. 'Helped me,' I repeat slowly as he swallows, the action working the muscles of his throat.

He glances over at me, nonplussed. 'Yeah. That's why I kissed you back.'

My face heats. Just hearing him talk about kissing me feels weirdly intimate.

I don't know what to say to that, but luckily, as always, he fills the silence. 'I figured if a girl jumps on you without warning in the middle of the hallway at school, it's usually for a good reason. So I just...went with it.' Another shrug.

I swallow against my suddenly dry mouth. 'Right. Well...thanks...for the help. I guess.'

This is weird. I'm thanking Jon Snow for kissing me. I'm  _talking_  to  _Jon Snow_  about him  _kissing me._  And all because my secret love letter to him got leaked by some unknown assailant.

_What the hell even is my life?_

He nods and carries on just sipping away, nonchalant, as if this is of no consequence. As if girls throw themselves on him for no reason all the time and – ok, well. They probably do.

'So anyway,' I say, abandoning my half-drunk milkshake and standing, suddenly needing some fresh air. 'I really appreciate your help. But now that you know I'm not interested in you and now that I've said thank you...I can take it from here.' I try for a smile, but I can feel the tightness of it and can only imagine how it looks. 'Thanks. Again.'

He looks me over once more, a maddening glint in his eye that, Gods help me, I can't seem to fathom. And I just stand there, waiting for him to speak like I'm completely at his mercy.  _Just like every bloody girl at our school,_  I think with an inward scowl.

When he finally opens his mouth, he doesn't say what I think he will.

He nods over my head towards the window behind me. 'Is that really your bike outside?'

I flush. 'No. It's my neighbour's.'

His lips twitch. 'How old is she?'

'12,' I reply, as I fidget sheepishly.

Another amused twitch of his lips. 'Why do you have it?'

_Gods, what is this, Twenty Questions?_

'I paid her to use it, ok? Can I go now?'

'Why would you do that?'

I inwardly groan, but then take a deep breath and fix him with a level look. He was right before. He  _did_  help me. I shouldn't be rude.

'I needed to leave my house quickly and it was my only means of escape.' I stare at him, hard. 'Satisfied?'

He just continues to stare at me in that infuriating way of his. I have no idea what he's thinking, but he looks like he's trying to figure something out.

'He was there, wasn't he?' He asks a moment later, his voice sharpened by a knowing edge.

'Who?'

'The guy you have a crush on.'

My stomach drops as he continues. 'He was at your house and you ran away from him.'

My cheeks flame, but instead of denying it I just shrug and look at my feet.

Jon is quiet. And then, in an inquisitive, almost tender voice, 'You must really not have wanted to see him, huh?'

I close my eyes. 'No. Can I go now?'

When I open them a moment later he has a different kind of glint in his, like he's suddenly determined and resolved. I can't make heads nor tails of it, but I don't feel like staying around any longer to figure it out.

'Can I go now, Jon?' I practically whisper.

And maybe it's the look in my eyes or the sound of my voice, but everything about him softens. 'Of course.'

I nod and grab my phone, hastily leaving the diner with nothing more than a wave at a startled Dee. I can't blame her, I didn't even finish my shake. I ALWAYS finish my shake.

I cycle home quickly, fleeing my sanctuary for the very place I was running from before.

I'm so eager to just get away that I don't give much thought to what Jon said before I left, not until I'm lying in bed later that night, being woken from sleep by my phone chiming with several messages.

Too tired and disoriented to remember that I'm supposed to be avoiding my inbox, I swipe the lock screen and go into the text chain with my BFF, Jeyne, which is littered with message upon message. ALL CAPS. Some just consisting of emoji's, which I'm sure are supposed to spell out messages I can't currently decipher with my sleep added brain. Not that I can even when I'm awake, if I'm being honest. Jeyne is an emoji fiend and would write her school assignments with them if she could get away with it.

I squint as I scroll back to the top of the text block and read.

**_Jeyne: OH MY GOD, GIRL! YOU BETTER START TALKING NOW!_  ** **  
**Jeyne: JON SNOW!?  
Jeyne: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!   
Jeyne: WHAT THE HELL?! WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME?! I THOUGHT WE WERE BFF'S! YOU BITCH.

\- followed by a winky face to tell me she's (mostly) joking.

**_Jeyne: SPILL. NOW!_ **

\- comes the latest message, and I sigh before cricking my neck and tiredly typing back.

**_Me: It's nothing. I'll explain tomorrow._ **

She probably just heard about the kiss in the hallway. I'll invent some story for her when I'm more awake. I won't tell her about Gendry, though. I never have. Never told anyone, not even my closest friend. Mostly because...well, I love the girl, but Jeyne is a blabbermouth. Not maliciously. It's a defect. She talks. A lot. To anyone and everything. She'd have a conversation with an inanimate object if she could. And she can't stop herself. It's not like I expect her to go marching up to Arya and Gendry and reveal all of my secrets. No, it would probably just come out accidentally via an ill-timed comment or something. Like word vomit.

No, I won't tell her the real reason I kissed Jon. But I'll make something up. I'll sort it out. Just not now. I'm so tired.  _So_  tired and I need -

_**Jeyne: NOTHING?  
Jeyne: THAT'S NOT WHAT HE SAID!** _

I narrow my eyes in confusion.  _He said? What?_

_**Me: Who?** _

It takes her all of a second to type back.

_**Jeyne: JON!** _

_What?_

My stomach dips.

She talked to Jon?  _Oh gods._  What did he say? Why did he say  _anything?_  Why is he talking about us and our kiss?  _Oh shit,_  I think as my blood freezes. Dd he tell Jeyne I liked someone? She won't know it's Gendry, of course, but she'll pester me incessantly about the identity of the culprit and, knowing me, I'll cave under the pressure like a tower of cards.

I hurriedly type a reply.

_**Me: What do you mean? What did he say? When?!** _

It takes her longer to answer this time and I know it's because she's sending a longer message...which instantly sets my nerves on edge.

In hindsight, the way it happens is a strange sort of serendipity. A slow-motion train wreck. For something to go this colossally wrong, everything must intersect and collide at the exact right, or in this case,  _wrong,_ moment.

If Gendry had not appeared at my house when he did, then I may not have chosen  _then_  to escape, and would have perhaps missed little Lyanna Mormont standing there in the street with her bike. Had I not sought my freedom on the ridiculous contraption at the very same second Jon happened to be driving up to my house, he may not have followed me to Dee's and cornered me into opening up to him about my crush. And, most importantly, he may not have experienced the lapse of sanity that inspired him into doing what he did when he ran into my best friend later that night.

When her text finally comes through, I skim it with trepidation.

**_Jeyne: Me and mum went to the Chinese takeout place on Addison this evening and Jon was there. So of course I said 'hi' because duh! It's Jon! He's soooo dreamy! And I thought he might not really recognise me or know me at first but then he did a double take and said 'hi' back. And THEN he said, 'You're Stark's friend, right?'_ **

My belly sinks again and I continue reading.

_**Jeyne: So of course I was surprised that he mentioned you. I mean, I know you guys used to hang out sometimes when you and Dany were friends but it's not like you really have had anything to do with each other since then, right? So I said, 'That's right, you know her?' And he smiled and went, 'Yeah, I know her...'** _

_Dot dot dot._  

What the hell?! She rambles incessantly and ends before the best part with a  _dot dot dot???_  Damn her. Always so bloody dramatic. I know she's only doing it to mess with me.

**_What?! What did he say?!_**  I type, my fingers practically punching the screen.

The three little dots pop up, I hold my breath and then her words appear...and my mouth falls open.

**_'He said, 'Yeah I know her...I'm her boyfriend.''_ **


End file.
